Fast Break

by Mike Lupica

  Mavericks by one.

  The Bobcats and Mavericks kept on trading baskets into the last four minutes. After Tyrese scored his fifth straight basket for the Bobcats, Coach swapped Bryan for Marty again.

  When he was back in the game, Bryan came over and said to Jayson, “I can shut this guy down.”

  Meaning Tyrese.

  “Don’t tell me,” Jayson said. “Show me.”

  Bryan did show him. Tyrese drove to the hoop on the next play, thinking he was cruising for a score, no problem. But there was Bryan Campbell elevating as Jayson had never seen him to block the shot into the seats.

  The game was tied with three minutes left. Coach Rankin called a time-out. When the Mavericks walked back onto the court, Tyrese came over to guard Jayson, Duane Wright on Bryan.

  “Okay, Snap,” Tyrese said to Jayson, not smiling now. “Let’s do this.”

  Jayson said nothing. Just walked away.

  He came down, dribbling too much, not even calling a play, wanting to make a statement to Tyrese right here and right now. But Tyrese stayed with him. Jayson finally started a drive, stopped himself ten feet from the basket even though he was going full speed, pump-faked to get Ty in the air, and made a jumper over him. Bobcats by two.

  He wanted in the worst way to cover Tyrese, but that wasn’t his call, so Bryan was still on him. Not looking to get blocked again, Tyrese came down the court, keeping his distance from Bryan, who failed to get a hand in his face, and Ty made a fadeaway jumper to tie the game once again.

  Jayson forced a shot, trying to show Ty up. Then Ty fed Shabazz for a finger roll.

  Mavericks by two.

  Next possession for the ’Cats, Jayson had a really good look at Cameron, who’d lost Shabazz on a switch, but he decided to drive himself, and ended up putting the ball up too hard and too high over Tyrese, who got the rebound. Tyrese threw a perfect long pass to Shabazz, who’d run down to the other side of the court as soon as Tyrese had snagged the board.

  Minute and a half left, Mavericks up by four.

  Ty stayed on Jayson, but Brandon Carr set a hard, legal screen on him, then rolled off, cutting to the hoop, waving for the ball. But at the last second, Jayson saw a wide-open Bryan standing behind the arc, and Duane coming out to double Jayson. Jayson passed it off to Bryan, who nailed the three to cut the lead down to a point.

  For the first time, Jayson realized how loud Belmont’s gym had become.

  The Mavericks came down and cleared out so that Shabazz could go one-on-one against Cameron. Jayson knew exactly what Shabazz was going to do: He was going to back him down if he could, use his size to post up, turn around, and take a hook from a foot away. Cameron was long, no doubt, but Shabazz was just a little bit longer.

  At just the right moment, Jayson ran right at him, thinking if he couldn’t get the ball he could at least rush him. But he was a step late. Shabazz had just enough of an angle to bank his shot home, and the Mavericks’ lead was back to three.

  Thirty seconds left.

  Jayson didn’t waste any time, came right at Tyrese, managed to get a step on him, and got fouled. He made both free throws, the ball rolling around the rim twice on the second one before deciding to drop through the net. The Belmont fans turned up the volume.

  Mavericks 51, Bobcats 50.

  Coach didn’t call time, just told them to foul. Rashard fouled Ray Bretton as soon as he touched the ball, and Jayson knew Duane had made a mistake by even throwing Ray the ball. Ray was one of the worst free-throw shooters on Moreland East, especially late in games.

  One-and-one. If he made the first, he would shoot a second. If he missed, the ball was up for grabs.

  Ray missed, Cameron came down with the ball. Now Coach called time-out.

  Twenty-two seconds showing on the clock.

  The Bobcats could run down the clock and take the last shot if they wanted, but if they missed, the game was over. Their best chance was a quick score, then one stop on defense would win the game for them.

  “Get set as quickly as you can,” Coach said to Jayson. “Cameron, don’t waste any time, come right up and set a screen. Then we take the first good shot we get.”

  He smiled. He always told them that moments like this were the ones you played for in sports.

  “Run the new play,” Coach said to Jayson.

  “Got it,” Jayson said.

  Then Coach put his hand out. They put theirs on top of his. In a quiet voice, Coach said, “Our house.”

  “Long way from the Jeff,” Tyrese said when he checked up on Jayson.

  “Court doesn’t matter,” Jayson said.

  “Got that right. Gonna take more than some fancy court and fancy new sneakers to beat us, Snap.”

  As he walked back out onto the court, Jayson looked up into the crowd to where the Lawtons were standing, along with the rest of the Belmont fans. Zoe and her friends were a couple of rows in front.

  The ref came over and handed Bryan the ball. He inbounded to Jayson, who dribbled toward the top of the key, angling to his left, as Cameron ran up from the low block to set the pick that Coach Rooney called their “key to the ignition,” the pick that started things in motion.

  But then Brandon came running up behind Cameron, the new play that Coach had been talking about, setting a back screen for Cameron as Cameron was putting a body on Tyrese.

  It all seemed to happen at once: Cameron rolling toward the basket, Shabazz running into Brandon, Shabazz falling a step behind Cameron as the Bobcats’ big man made his move to the basket.

  But Jayson was open, too, Tyrese having gotten lost in all the traffic of the double screen.

  Ten seconds left.

  Time to make his move.

  Cameron had his long left arm in the air, waving for the ball, his eyes wide, looking right at Jayson.

  But in that moment, Jayson felt like it was him against Moreland East. He was going to show them exactly what they were missing.

  He found a clear path to the basket, pictured in his mind the layup that was going to win the game for the Bobcats.

  And never saw Shabazz coming from his left.

  The ball had barely left his hands when Shabazz not only blocked it, but blocked it straight at Tyrese, who caught the ball and dribbled toward the Mavericks’ basket.

  Jayson chased after Tyrese, hoping he might have a chance to foul before time expired. But Ty cut away from the basket—somebody making the right decision in these last few seconds—and there was nothing Jayson could do but watch as time ran out and the Mavericks won the game.

  While Tyrese and the Mavericks celebrated, Jayson turned and saw Cameron standing next to him.

  “Not that it mattered to you,” Cameron said. “But I was open.”

  22

  IT WASN’T JUST THAT CAMERON had been open on the last play, Jayson knew. Bryan had been open, too, about ten feet from the basket with nobody near him, because all the Moreland East players had been chasing Jayson and Cameron.

  It bothered Jayson as much as losing the game: The play had worked exactly the way it was supposed to. But he’d been the one to blow it up.

  The kid who prided himself on always making the right play, always finding the open man on a fast break, had picked that moment to throw up a hero shot. One that barely left his hand.

  He made a good show of being happy for Tyrese, Shabazz, and the others, not wanting to show weakness, even now. As weak as his shot had been.

  “You got me good,” he said to Shabazz.

  “Got lucky, is all,” Shabazz said, ducking his head. He’d always been more comfortable talking about anybody’s game except his own.

  “How’d you know I was shooting and not passing?” Jayson said, curious, really wanting to know.

  “I didn’t know for sure,” Shabazz said. “But you were feelin’ it down th
e stretch, pretty much took over the game. And I thought you’d want to be the one that sealed the deal against your old boys.”

  Jayson could see his teammates watching him from their bench while he gave props to his old friends—and former team.

  “I should’ve passed,” Jayson said to Tyrese and Shabazz. “My center was wide open.”

  “Even LeBron makes the wrong play sometimes,” Ty said.

  “Usually it’s because he’s being too unselfish,” Jayson said. “With me just now, it was the other way around.”

  Tyrese asked if he wanted to come back to the east side with him and Shabazz, and Jayson knew it would have been the first time back there since Mrs. Lawton had tracked him down at the Pines. Tyrese said they could get a game going at the Jeff later.

  “Be like old times,” he said.

  “I can’t,” Jayson said.

  “Can’t or don’t want to?” Tyrese said.

  He put on his smile as he said it, but Jayson could tell he wasn’t joking. He could always tell with Tyrese by checking his eyes, to see if they were smiling, too.

  “It’s not like that,” Jayson said. “I’m just tired, is all.”

  “Never used to get tired before,” Tyrese said.

  Behind Tyrese, up in the stands, Jayson could see Zoe waving at him to come over.

  “Sorry, man, but I gotta bounce right now,” Jayson said. “I’ll check you later.”

  Shabazz turned to Tyrese and said, “First time in history the boy passed up a game at the Jeff.”

  Tyrese was watching Jayson’s eyes, the way he did during a game. He turned and followed them all the way over to Zoe.

  Tyrese said, “Maybe it’s not as bad over here as you’ve been letting on.”

  “C’mon, man,” Jayson said. “You know I’m being straight with you.”

  “Nah, I think I get it now,” Tyrese said.

  Without another word, they turned their backs on him and headed for the door, Jayson feeling one last time as if he were caught between his old team and his new one.

  • • •

  When Jayson walked over to Zoe, she said, “That guy swatted you away like that Weston goalie kept doing to me.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “That makes me feel a lot better.”

  “C’mon, you know I’m just joking,” she said. “You nearly won the game for your team.”

  “Tried to win it for myself, but lost it for my team in the end,” he said. “The difference between our games is that you were supposed to take the final shot, but I should’ve passed.”

  “It was one game,” she said.

  “Every game matters. Some more than others.”

  “You’ll get them next time.”

  He kept quiet, mostly because he didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m getting nowhere with my pep talk.”

  “I’m not in the mood,” he said.

  “Listen,” she said. “I’ve got to go to the mall with my mom.”

  “You’re telling me this . . . why?”

  “Because, Dr. Doom, I thought that if I got back in time, we could hang out at my house later.”

  “Call me when you’re done.”

  “Only if you promise to be in a better mood.”

  “No promises.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, fun in her eyes. “I think it’s hard for you to stay in a bad mood around me.”

  At that moment, Mrs. Montgomery walked into the gym and gave Zoe a look that said it was time to go, not even looking at Jayson.

  “I better get going,” Zoe said.

  She never called. Jayson was actually glad. He didn’t want to be with anybody today, not even her. He wanted to be alone.

  It was always easier that way.

  • • •

  It was near dinnertime at the Lawtons’, but Jayson was out on their basketball court, where he’d been since he’d gotten home.

  Working on his game. Still thinking about the one he’d just played, breaking it down possession by possession. Almost like he was playing against Moreland East all over again.

  Trying to find one more bucket for his team.

  He knew he should’ve passed the ball in that situation. That was his game. It was who he was, the player he prided himself on being. But by the time the Bobcats got the ball at the end, he’d turned into somebody else: a point guard who’d made the whole game about himself and not his team, someone who’d tried to prove some kind of point, lost sight of the bigger picture in the process.

  But who had he been trying to prove a point to?

  His old team? His new one? Himself?

  He banged a line-drive shot off the side of the rim and started to chase after the ball, until he saw that Mrs. Lawton had already picked it up for him. He’d been so focused on his shooting—and replaying the game in his mind—that he hadn’t even noticed her walk outside.

  She stepped onto the court and threw him a perfect two-handed bounce pass, the ball spinning into his hands with some nice topspin.

  It was a pass from somebody who knew what she was doing with a basketball in her hands.

  “You played?” he said.

  “Don’t sound so shocked.”

  “You never said anything.”

  “You never asked,” she said. “And I figured that basketball was something you wanted to work on alone.”

  She was right about that, but he was still surprised that she’d never told him she’d been a player. “Did you play on school teams?”

  “I was a tall east-side girl who was a decent athlete,” she said. “It was practically my duty.” She grinned. “Ended up being a starter at Moreland East in high school.”

  “I can’t believe you never told me.”

  “You never seem to want to watch Duke games with Tom,” she said, “so I didn’t think you’d be interested in an old lady’s basketball past.”

  Jayson cocked his head. “Were you any good?”

  “Good enough to be a starter, but I was never a star like you.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “I was a total star at the end of the game today.”

  “My high school coach used to tell me it’s never just one play that decides a basketball game.”

  “Well, it felt like that to me. And it’ll be the play that everyone remembers.”

  “It was a hard day for you,” she said. “You put too much pressure on yourself to show your new teammates that you belonged on that court. That you could be the leader of the Bobcats.”

  “Well, I don’t know that I belong anywhere. My teammates probably don’t want to speak to me right now, and Tyrese and Shabazz think I big-timed them.” He sighed loudly. “I wanted that win so badly.”

  “Wanting to win that badly,” she said, “is part of what makes you the great player you are. Part of what makes you deserve to be on that court.”

  He didn’t feel so great at that moment, standing there with Mrs. Lawton. But at least he always had basketball to distract him. Even if he needed to use it to distract himself from more basketball.

  “You want to take a couple of shots?” he said. “Show me what you’ve got?”

  “My playing days are over,” she said, smiling at him. “Why don’t I just feed the ball to you?”

  “Isn’t it getting close to supper?”

  “Supper can wait.”

  She rebounded for him over the next few minutes while he moved around the perimeter and took outside shots. After each shot, Jayson watched her and thought that she did have the instincts of a good athlete. She made left-handed passes and right-handed passes, and just about all of them seemed to hit him in stride, so all he had to do was catch and shoot. Nothing fancy, just good old mechanics. She kept dishing him the ball while neither one of them said anything.

  But thr
ough the silence, for some reason he was starting to feel more relaxed than when he’d been out here by himself.

  “I used to do this with Isaiah when he’d let me. He’d come out here after a tough loss and do exactly what you’ve been doing, sometimes into the night. Almost like he was trying to sweat the bad plays out of himself.”

  “I understand that. Basketball has always been the only thing that I could really depend on.”

  Mrs. Lawton gave him a sad smile. “Well, you can depend on Tom and me, too. Even if we don’t always see eye to eye. Sometimes, kids want to live their life one way, but their parents see differently.”

  “Did that happen with Isaiah?” Jayson asked. Whatever was going on between the Lawtons and their son wasn’t really any of his business, he knew, but Mrs. Lawton had already started the conversation.

  “Something like that.”

  “Where is he, anyway?”

  “He’s taking some time away. Trying to figure out his life. I think about him every day. Hope beyond hope that he’s okay, and that once he’s done with all that figuring out, he’ll come back home. Home is important. Sometimes we figure that out later rather than sooner.”

  Mrs. Lawton didn’t seem to want to say any more about the situation, so Jayson dropped it.

  He knew he had been out on the Lawtons’ court for hours, and felt like he’d been winding down before Mrs. Lawton came outside. But now he was in no rush to go back into the house. Mrs. Lawton didn’t seem to be, either.

  “C’mon,” he said finally, “you’ve got to take a couple of shots. I played ball with you, now it’s your turn.”

  She shrugged and held her hands out, calling for a pass. He tossed the ball to her and she took a couple of dribbles.

  “Take a few from the outside,” he said.

  “What, a sister can’t warm up?”

  She hit a couple layups and then ran out to the right of the foul line, clapped her hands, and said, “Feed me, I’m open.”

  Now Jayson threw her a perfect bounce pass, one she caught chest-high. Then she let her shot go. He thought for a moment that she’d released it too low, almost like she was shooting the ball off her right hip.